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Big Sur Bakery Cookbook - Michelle Wojtowicz [5]

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under our belts, but we never want our restaurant to feel beyond the reach of how we were raised. That’s why we try not to add fancy sauces or sprinkle the menu with esoteric cooking terms. We want to make people feel comfortable and familiar with all the foods we serve—and then blow them away.

MICHELLE WOJTOWICZ

PHILIP WOJTOWICZ

MIKE GILSON

Photographs by Sara Remington

Photographs by Sara Remington

March

Breakfast at the Bakery

A Brief History of Big Sur

Profile: Jim, Pasture Farmer

Scones

Potato Frittata

Breakfast Pizza

Nine-Grain Pancake

Meyer Lemon Bars

Date and Quinoa Muffins

Doughnuts

Chocolate Bundt Cake

Brown Butter Rhubarb Bars

Photographs by Sara Remington

Breakfast at the Bakery


For our customers, mornings at the Bakery begin when we open our doors at 8:00, but the real start time is at 4 a.m., when our morning bakers get here to start the day’s bread and pastries. Working in the quiet darkness, they take the preshaped bread out of the refrigerator, remove the ash from the oven, and check the oven temperature—an important task, since it will set the pace of the morning and determine in what order the bread and pastries will be baked. After rolling, filling, and shaping the croissants, they set them near the warm oven to proof; and then bake the muffins, scones, cookies, coffee cakes, quiches, and frittatas; fry the doughnuts; and start the day’s bread.

At around 7:00, our morning barista arrives to set up the Bakery and start brewing the coffee, and as the morning sun slides into the valley, our first customers pull in, tires crunching on the driveway’s gravel. The room they walk into doesn’t look like a restaurant—there are no place settings or candles, no waiters or table service. Instead people line up at the counter for coffee and pastries and thick slices of potato frittata and take their breakfasts outside to the front patio, soaking up the sunshine as they sip their morning dose of caffeine.

The early crowd includes tourists from nearby hotels and campgrounds, filling up on food before starting out on their day. But the morning is also all about the locals. They come in for coffee in a long, leisurely procession, drawn as much by their hunger for gossip as for breakfast. Since there’s no actual “town” in Big Sur, people gather at a handful of hangouts to catch up, and the Bakery’s front patio has become a popular spot to meet.

As Phil oversees prep work in the kitchen, Michelle helps with the rest of the day’s baking—everything from pies, cookies, plated dinner desserts, and homemade ice cream to the occasional wedding cake. When she has a free moment, she hangs out in the front of the house, answering the phone and chatting with the parade of friends who stop by: Eric and Jasmine, dropping off microgreens with their son, Haven, bouncing on Eric’s arm. Forrie, taking a break from chopping wood to read the morning paper. Erik, back from his latest decorating adventure, dressed to the nines even though it’s barely 9 a.m. Jack the Bee Guy stops by for a soy latte and gives an update on the spring bloom. Wayne drops off some firewood. Marilyn tucks herself into a corner and starts on the day’s paperwork. Wrenches in hand, Mike rolls in for a cup of tea on his way to fix a plumbing problem at the Bakery, as a patient wine salesperson he forgot he had an appointment with smiles at him from a nearby table.

Photographs by Sara Remington

From the outside, the day’s pace seems leisurely and haphazard, but stick around long enough and you’ll realize that there’s a predictable rhythm to it all, not to mention a lot of work going on behind the scenes: prepping, baking, accepting deliveries, getting ready for the night ahead. At around 2:00, the last lunchtime sandwiches are sold. As the afternoon sun lights up Mount Manuel, the transition to evening begins.

Photographs by Sara Remington

A Brief History of Big Sur


One of the biggest misconceptions people have about Big Sur is that it’s an actual town. It’s understandable—with all the hype, you’d think

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